


It's Harry From Tesco

by areyoutherelarry



Series: The Trip to Tesco That Changed Lives [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Popstar, Alternate Universe - Teachers, M/M, Mpreg, mpreg month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:50:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1569899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoutherelarry/pseuds/areyoutherelarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson, drama teacher, does not want to admit that he's obsessed with pop star, Harry Styles, or that paying for said pop star's groceries at Tesco changed his life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of the people and none of this is real. It's all made up for my own amusement.  
> There will be mpreg in this story.

            “I wanna suck your dick,” Lottie screams and Louis desperately wants to clamp his hand over her mouth or join in on her screaming; he can’t quite flesh out which urge is deeper. Instead he stands there with a semi-disgusted look on his face and hopes it passes off as brotherly disdain.

            Louis and Zayn begrudgingly agreed to let their sisters stay at their flat for the Harry Styles concert; though on Louis’s part it wasn’t as resentful. He will lie if anybody asks him about his obsession. He will vehemently deny that after everybody’s left the building for the night that he jams out to the spiced-up bubblegum-pop while he grades papers in his classroom. Occasionally, taking breaks to shake his ass at the front of his classroom as he erases the lesson off the board. 

            “Teenage girls,” Zayn gripes in his ear as he watches the gangly but oddly muscular singer hop around the stage as girls from every direction scream vulgarities or just plain incoherently. The noise is eardrum-shatteringly loud and Louis can barely hear Harry Styles crooning the lyrics over the din. They calm down after the first chart-topper has played and Harry lulls them with his drawling Cheshire accent that Louis would like to say drives him bonkers because Louis hates anything slow, but instead it just makes Louis want to hear him moan slow and smooth as Louis sucks his dick. He sings an acoustic version of one of his songs and Louis sways with the melody, humming the notes.

            Lottie, Waliyha, and Fizzy are drinking the water bottles Zayn bought them after his latest smoke trip. Harry is now chatting to his guitarist who, Louis is pretty sure, is Niall Horan; okay, he knows it’s Niall Horan. The fangirls are giggling at their banter, and Louis feels a smile tug at the corner of his lips with their chatter. Harry’s best friend from uni, or rather the one year he spent at uni before auditioning and winning _The X-Factor_. Louis may or may not have watched the documentary on ITV, so he knows a decent bit of information on the pop sensation. He knows that the reason Liam Payne opened for Harry is that they shared a room in _The X-Factor_ house. He also knows that his mom’s name is Anne and his sister’s is Gemma. Harry will do this forever, as long as he can keep doing it with the same people, or so he says. Louis thinks it’s ridiculously adorable how fucked up Harry thinks being famous is. He has a right proper celebrity crush on the lad if he’s being quite honest with himself.

            Zayn is really good at acting like he’s unaffected by the world. Louis knows it’s a fucking ruse because Zayn has watched all the documentaries on Harry Styles and _The X-Factor_. Not only the televised shit, but also the crazy ass stuff that gets put online. Zayn is just good at blank-facing it; Louis knows it comes from his endurance of the shit people spew about his religion and ethnicity. Louis wishes he could adapt one of his own that was stronger than the one he’s got so far. He knows his adoration for the stupid curly-haired boy is showing on his face because Zayn keeps glancing at him with a smirk plastered on his face. Louis pulls a face at Zayn who laughs heartily; his face moving beautifully and Louis hates his overly attractive friend.

            “Fuck me, Harry!” The girl behind him screams, and she can’t be more than fourteen.

            He shares a glance with Zayn who looks dumbfounded and then leans over to whisper-shout in his ear, “First of all, gross. She’s like twelve. Second of all, he’s not even the hottest person that’s been on stage. That Liam bloke is much more fit.”

            “You’re out of your mind.”

            “You’re in a Harry Styles-charm daze. Objectively, Liam is far more attractive.”

            “Shut up,” Louis hisses.

            “Touchy-touchy.”

            It ends up that Zayn gets to see Liam again when he comes on stage to do an encore performance with Harry. The show ends with Liam, Harry, and Niall in a dog pile on the stage as cannons shoot confetti into the stands.

            It’s a pain in the ass to flag down a cab outside the arena, but they manage to pile into one after Louis basically makes a fool out of himself to get it. It costs an arm and a leg but Louis just accepts it like he does most of London’s expenses.

            Fizzy goes quite willingly to bed on the air mattress on the floor in Louis’s room, but Lottie and Waliyha are a different story. They whine about wanting to be treated like proper adults and Louis grouses that they should act like it then, but somehow they convince him to go out and get them liquor. It’s a horrible idea he knows, but he’s already at Tesco before he thinks better of it. He gets them a fruity bottle of Blossom Hill that has virtually no alcohol in it, while he gets himself and Zayn a fifteen-pack of Stella, which they probably won’t finish. He gets in line behind a bloke with a huge bunch of bananas, three blue Gatorades, and a four-pack of Tyskie. Louis grimaces at the hipster beer and waits as the items are scanned.

            “17.25.”

            The guy in front of him goes to reach into the pocket of his hoodie then with a little more urgency pats the pockets of his skinny jeans.

            “Shit,” the guy mumbles, and Louis rolls his eyes.

            “I’ve got it,” Louis offers, handing the cashier his credit card.

            “Thanks, mate,” the man says, turning to him, and that’s when Louis’s chin nearly hits the floor. He just paid for Harry fucking Styles’s groceries.

            “You’re…” Louis fish-mouths.

            “Yeah,” Harry agrees; his mouth pulling up with the same honey-slowness of his voice, “You seem to know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

            “Louis Tomlinson.”

            “Well, Louis, I owe you.”

            “No worries,” Louis assures as the cashier scans his purchases and hands him back his credit card.

            “How would dinner be?” Harry asks causally, like he asks out everybody he meets at Tesco after midnight.

            “That sounds absolutely incredible,” Louis agrees and then feels his cheeks heat up with how enthusiastic he sounds. Harry just grins winningly at him.

            “Number?” Harry asks.

            Louis recites his number as Harry punches it diligently into his phone.

            “I’ll text you, yeah?” Harry questions.

            “Yeah.”

            Louis doesn’t tell anybody when he gets back to the apartment because he doesn’t quite believe it yet. He doesn’t want to look like a fool in front of Zayn and his sisters if Harry doesn’t call; plus, they’ll never let him live it down and with no pictures he has no proof. Hell, Harry probably just said that so Louis would leave him alone and not tweet about his location.

            Louis’s nearly put it out of his mind when he checks his phone during lunch on Monday and nearly squeals with delight at the notification of a text message from an unknown number. The history teacher sends him a sharp look and Louis rolls his eyes; he knows she just hates that all the students love his drama class more than her boring lectures on King Henry VIII.

           

_hi louis, it’s harry from tesco, i was wondering if you wanted to get dinner at rosso_

           

            Louis is struck by Harry’s complete lack of acknowledgement that he is The Harry Styles, heartthrob extraordinaire. Louis responds immediately with an affirmative text. They text back and forth quickly working out the details that Harry will pick Louis up at eight on Friday. He literally does not know how he conveys the tragedy that is _Romeo and Juliet_ to his students, but he manages he hopes because he’s quite preoccupied with thoughts of the curly-haired singer.

            Friday comes both too slowly and quickly for Louis’s liking. Zayn is still disbelieving that Louis has an actual date with the pop star, but he stops calling Louis a liar when he leaves a bruise on Zayn’s bicep. Zayn helps Louis pick out an all-black outfit that makes him look the age he actually is instead of like an impressionable teenager.

            Harry picks him up in the alley behind his building and Louis feels slightly uncomfortable like he’s waiting for his drug dealer, not that he’s ever had the experience. A black Benz comes around the corner with darkened windows and the drug dealer scenario continues. Harry pops out of the driver’s seat and smiles blindingly at him.

            “Sorry, I had to pick you up back here; my car usually gets stalked and I didn’t want you to be splashed across the front page of The Sun,” Harry says nonchalantly, and Louis can’t believe he’s even having this conversation.

            “Nothing to be sorry for,” Louis responds, and that makes another smile pull across Harry’s face. Harry walks to the passenger side and pulls open the door. Louis climbs in and he can’t quite believe his luck.

            “They’re quite down on their game actually; the bait and switch I planned with my team went off without a hitch. I can’t decide if I should be impressed with our game or laughing that they’re so down on theirs.”

            “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation,” Louis admits and the comment makes Harry giggle.

            Louis observes Harry as he drives through the streets of London. He can see the blemishes on his skin, but it makes him more attractive to Louis, more real. He wants very much to tuck the curl that’s fallen onto Harry’s face back into the semi-quiff he has going on. He’s wearing a gorgeous forest-green jacket that Louis is nearly positive is Burberry and worth more than a month’s rent on his and Zayn’s flat. They talk about the restaurant and while Louis has only been there once, Harry seems like he’s a regular. Harry talks about specials he hopes they’re having and what he thinks is the best. Louis doesn’t add much and just listens to the deep, charming accent. Harry catches Louis watching the muscles and bones of his face move as he talks and winks at him. Louis doesn’t find himself embarrassed much but he feels his cheeks twinge pink and he moves his eyes to his hands in his lap.

            Again, Harry pulls into an alley behind the restaurant and they get out. A valet is waiting for them, and Louis realizes that Harry must have called ahead. It must be quite a production for Harry to be out and about without the paparazzi down his throat. They walk in through the kitchen and people yell greetings at Harry. Harry responds to them jovially and asks after people’s children and lives. Louis can’t believe what he’s witnessing and when Harry’s palm drops to the small of Louis’s back, he nearly pulls away like he’s been stung. Even though he’s wearing multiple layers, Louis can feel the warmth of Harry’s hand on his back and the way that his fingers nearly drum out a beat.

            “I hope you don’t mind I called ahead and got us a private table in the back. It’s not nearly as glamorous as sitting out front, but it’s more intimate.”

            “I don’t mind,” Louis responds and his voice is high and so much like the flamboyant teenager he’s desperately trying to hide under the tattoos and dark clothing.

            They take their seats and Harry pulls out Louis’s chair for him and Louis contemplates if the blood will ever leave his cheeks. Harry glances cursorily at the menu, before setting it down and looking at Louis. Louis tries to avoid his gaze by concentrating acutely on the menu. Harry chuckles softly and Louis glances sharply up at him. Harry winks again and the blood continues to pump to Louis’s cheeks.

            “Do you want to get a bottle of wine or champagne?” Harry asks.

            “Okay,” Louis responds, wanting to whack himself for the idiotic reply.

            “Is champagne alright?”

            “Yeah.”

            Harry orders a bottle of champagne and Louis nearly complains when he sees the price of it, but it’s probably the only time he’ll be able to have it so he keeps his mouth shut. The waiter comes back with the bottle and Harry only has a small glass. Louis looks at it confusedly and Harry reminds him that he’s driving. Now, the bottle looks intimidating. The waiter checks on them and they order: they get bruschetta to share, Harry orders a rack of lamb, and Louis gets the chicken Kiev.

            “So what do you do for a living?”

            “I’m a teacher,” Louis says as he takes a sip of the champagne and nearly moans at the freshness of the fruit. The liquid is round and supple in his mouth and he wants the bottle to last forever.

            “S’good isn’t it?” Harry questions.

            Louis hums in response and Harry laughs. Louis tells Harry the perils and hilarities of teaching teenagers, and in turn, Harry tells Louis about touring with his best mates. Louis loves watching Harry’s full-bodied laugh and the way his face crinkles with it. He wants to make Harry laugh forever. Harry’s stories are funny but incredibly long and Louis thinks he could do with a bit of story-telling advice; though, it is quite endearing the little details Harry adds in about his friends.

            The food is as delicious as the champagne and Louis makes a valiant effort not to make a purring fool out of himself. He waffles between taking his time and inhaling the food. Harry orders them dessert and Louis’s grateful because he’s feeling quite buzzed as he finishes off the last of the champagne. They split a piece of cheesecake and Louis smirks when Harry offers him the last piece; he takes it, of course.

            As they get up, Louis wobbles a little on his feet. Harry steadies him with gentle hands on his hips and Louis smiles beatifically at him. Harry leans down and swipes his lips across Louis, and Louis isn’t prepared for that.

            “I thought you liked girls,” Louis blurts out.

            Harry snorts, “I like boys as well.”

            “But,” Louis says, “I thought it was just dinner.”

            Harry chuckles again, “It can be, but I’d rather it be a date.”

            “Me too,” Louis murmurs as he pushes off the ground to press his lips more firmly against Harry’s.

            Harry pulls away slightly, but presses his forehead to Louis’s, “You want to go back to mine?”

            Louis makes a little affirmative noise in the back of his throat, not trusting words to come out of his mouth properly. They walk exceptionally fast to the alleyway; Louis tripping over his own feet every so often trying to keep up with Harry’s long gait.

            “You’ll need to sit in the back.  We don’t need the paps speculating.” Louis climbs in behind Harry and at stoplights, because he’s lost some inhibitions, plays with the curls at the base of his neck. The cameras are blinding as they pull up to Harry’s hotel and Louis ducks down so he can’t be seen.

            “Why don’t you just get a place in London?” Louis asks as Harry ushers him to the elevator.

            “’M not sure,” Harry admits, “London doesn’t really feel like home, I guess.”

            Louis nods in understanding and slides his hand into Harry’s trench coat. Harry makes an agreeable noise and Louis presses himself into Harry’s side. He nearly preens when gentle lips graze his forehead.

            Harry shows him around the suite and Louis falls onto the couch in the main room. Harry hands him a glass of water and Louis takes it gratefully. It’s not long after Harry sits next to him that their lips are moving over each other’s and their hands are roaming over and under clothes. Louis straddles Harry’s hips and rucks up his shirt. He kisses the tattoos on Harry’s chest and sucks bruises into his collarbone.

            “Can we move this somewhere more comfortable?” Louis asks.

            “You drank a lot at dinner.”

            “Shut up, and let’s get this show on the road.”

            Harry can probably pick Louis up, but he’ll have none of that. He moves backwards off Harry’s lap and pulls Harry to his feet with their lips still touching every so often. Louis starts dragging the larger man towards a hallway.

            “You have to point me in the right direction,” Louis hisses. Harry chuckles and presses his hands more firmly onto Louis’s hips as he leads him to the bedroom. The bedroom is magnificent, not that Louis really cares. He’d do Harry Styles on a sheetless mattress on the floor, but this is much better.

            They discard their clothes quickly and Louis nearly comes when Harry opens him up languidly with those long, dexterous fingers. He pulls Harry’s hand away when he feels like the coils in his navel are going to make him explode.

            “I need you in me now,” Louis demands.

            Harry rips open the foil packaging, rolls the condom onto himself, adds some lube, and then pushes agonizingly slow into Louis. After the first few tender strokes, Louis flips them so that he can control the movements. He leans over Harry and thrusts himself hastily up and down. Harry reaches for Louis’s dick just as he explodes. It only takes a few twists of Harry’s wrist before Louis is coming between them and falling onto Harry’s chest.

            “Fuck,” Harry whispers into Louis’s sweaty hair.

            “Agreed, pop star.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis finds out something shocking and he has to tell Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is excessive use of the f-bomb in this chapter.

            Three days later, Harry has to leave for his Australian and then Asian legs of his world tour and Louis is a little disappointed, but the fall play is coming up so he has a lot to occupy his time. Harry and Louis text back and forth occasionally and it’s nice, but it’s definitely not a full-fledged romantic relationship. Most of their texts are platonic, but there is still the sexual tension that gives Louis hope. Louis tries not to get too excited that this could turn into a relationship when Harry’s tour is over in three months. Who the fuck is he kidding, he lives for the stupid text messages and random hipster pictures of trees and hotel rooms.

            Zayn is getting fantastically annoyed with him and his mooning. Zayn has been taking care of everything in their apartment, including Louis’s man-menstrual calendar, which is astoundingly disturbing. However, that’s mostly because Louis hates thinking about it. He’s known since he was sixteen when he fully hit puberty that he could get pregnant. It’s similar to a female’s, but it only comes every four months. Even though he’s a sexually active gay man, it’s still unlikely that it will happen, which also doesn’t mean that Louis doesn’t take every precaution. He always makes sure the guy uses a condom and he’s been on the specially formulated male birth control since he was eighteen and went away to uni. Zayn has known him since then, but he didn’t tell Zayn he could get pregnant until their second year. He knows his mum checks up on it and him through Zayn because everyone knows how much he hates how feminine it makes him feel.

            “Here, you weren’t going to have any so I picked some up when I was grabbing stuff for dinner tonight,” Zayn says disapprovingly as he tosses something at Louis who catches the items instinctively. Louis looks down at the Panadol Period Pain and the Cura Heat boxes now in his hands.

            “It hasn’t started,” he murmurs more to himself than to Zayn.

            “What?” Zayn questions.

            “It hasn’t started,” he says more startled than he should be.

            “It should’ve two days ago.”           

            “How the fuck did I miss that,” Louis mumbles as he feels his pulse quicken and stops, “How the fuck do you know that?”

            “Please, you know your mum asked me to help you keep track of this shit because you’d rather forget.”  

            Louis harrumphs because it’s true and then stutters, “Fuck.”

            “You need a pregnancy test.”         

            “Double fuckity fuck fuck.”

            Zayn demands to go to Tesco with him to buy the pregnancy test, again fucking invasive. They rush back to their apartment and Louis pees on the stick and then they wait a gazillion hours until it registers. Okay, it’s only three minutes but exaggerating is high on Louis’s to do list right now, right after freaking the fuck out.

            The little digital screen, if he wasn’t losing his mind he’d be impressed with the technology, reads ‘Pregnant’ across it. Louis has Zayn read it and he watches Zayn’s usually reserved expression go to a completely dumbfounded one. This is bad, really fucking bad. They fall onto the couch together. Louis stares at the water stain above the television and Zayn keeps glancing at him like he’s a bomb ready to go off.

            “It could be a false positive,” Zayn croaks and Louis’s hysterical laugh doesn’t seem to agree with the sentiment. Zayn doesn’t venture to say anything else. After sitting on the couch with Louis for a good twenty minutes, Zayn gets up and makes chicken sandwiches for dinner. Louis mechanically grabs his when it’s finished and a few chips. He knows it tastes delicious, everything Zayn makes tastes good, but he’s just chewing without really savoring anything.

            “What are you going to do?” Zayn asks him tentatively.

            “I don’t know.”

            “Are you going to tell Harry?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Do you want to keep it?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Is there anything that you know?”

            “That you’re being an incredible git.”

            Zayn lets out a disconcerted laugh as his face warps from surprised to annoyed, “I’m just trying to help, mate.”

            “Well, clearly, I don’t know what I’m doing. I think I’m going to go to bed and sleep on it; I’m knackered anyways.”

            “Louis,” Zayn says softly, “Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back bro.”

            Louis feels his body relax a little and smiles, “Thanks.”

            He doesn’t sleep well at all that night and the next morning he’s spacey and crabby. He gives his students a review guide and lets them work on it for the rest of class. Zayn finds him eating his lunch alone in his classroom. Zayn waves at him and plops down into one of the desks with his meal. He doesn’t talk and Louis is grateful that Zayn knows him so well. His friend is intrusive, which aggravates Louis to the end of the world and back, but with the intrusiveness he’s also very knowledgeable about Louis-isms.

            “What am I going to do with a baby?” Louis finally queries exasperatedly.

            “Raise it, I guess.”

            “Zayn, I can barely take care of myself. Fuck, you take care of me better than I take care of myself.”

            “Lou,” Zayn says softly.

            “No, Zayn, seriously, what the fuck kind of father am I going to be?”

            “I have no doubts that you would and will be an amazing dad, Lou, the question really is do you want to be one right now?”

            “I don’t know,” Louis sighs and presses his face into his hands, “but I don’t think I can do the alternative.”

            “You should probably tell Harry.”

            This time he lets his face rebound off his desk and lets out a guttural groan. He knows Zayn is right Harry does at least deserve to know, but he’s scared of the other man’s reaction. He probably won’t believe him and even though Louis expects that, it’ll still hurt when Harry’s skeptical.

            “Maybe, I’ll give it a little time. Hell, most male pregnancies don’t make it past the first four months anyways. What with the inhospitable conditions and the yy chromosome invalidity.”

            And that’s basically the end of their discussion about it. Louis doesn’t try to actively sabotage his pregnancy, but he’s not exactly overjoyed by it. He doesn’t tell anyone but Zayn and his doctor that he goes to visit when he realizes that he’s going to have to deal with it eventually, and that’s mostly because he feels bad that he hasn’t told Harry. He wants to tell Harry face to face, and that just means keeping it to himself, Zayn, and his doctor until Harry’s back in London. His horrible morning sickness starts a couple days after he figures out he’s pregnant. He can’t decide if it’s physical or mental, but he can’t keep much down but rice and boiled chicken. He takes vitamins for pregnant women because god forbid anyone put pregnant people on the bottle.

            He worries constantly that he’s going to pop and everyone will be able to tell that he’s pregnant. He knows the questions will be overwhelming, not to mention the disdain. He knows that male-pregnancies are seen as unnatural and less worthy, and there’s not much more doubt Louis can pile onto himself. Most nights, he wakes up in a cold sweat, which he knows is normal in pregnancy, but it’s still off-putting. He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t eat, he doesn’t drink, and all of this makes Louis a tetchy boy. It’s a relief when the winter break comes nearly a week before Christmas. Coincidentally, it’s also when his morning sickness ends and he starts to desperately crave bananas of all things.

            He goes to the faculty holiday party with Zayn and spends the whole night dodging drink offers and eating anything with chocolate in it. He’s happy he can cover his belly with a large sweater and no one will be the wiser. He’s not showing, but he’s still always worried people can tell. He’s talking to the newest member of the faculty, a bookish English teacher, with penchants for scarves and celebrities. She, not Harry, is the one to inform him Harry is back in London.

            “Did you see the big tada they had over Harry Styles returning at Heathrow?”

            “Um, no,” he replies because he really hadn’t, he’d been more focused on gestating Harry Styles’s offspring.

            “I tried to pick my mum up from her trip to France and the entire queue was filled with paparazzo.”

            “They’re obsessed with his curls,” Louis says sagely and she giggles in response.

            “Quite naturally, I have heard they are full of secrets,” She responds and they laugh. She moves on quickly to another celebrity, but Louis is stuck on Harry. Harry’s back and he’s going to have to tell him. He’s going to have to tell Harry that he’s going to be a father in a little more than six months. He has to excuse himself early and beg Zayn to go home with him. He doesn’t tell Zayn why and just plays exhausted. They go home and Zayn talks about how it’s probably better that he didn’t pull the art teacher, though it has been months since he got laid. Louis goes straight to his bedroom and opens his computer. He Googles ‘Harry Styles’ and immediately paparazzi pictures accumulate on his screen. They’re mostly of Harry at Heathrow with his head bent and a security guard pushing through the throng of money hungry photogs. His fingers itch to send a quick, noncommittal text message welcoming Harry back to London, but he decides against it and instead falls into a restless sleep.

            He doesn’t have to wait long to talk to Harry though because the next day his phone jingles with a notification that he has a new text message. It’s from Harry asking if he wants to get together at a coffee shop the next day. Louis’s heart nearly beats out of his chest, but he responds affirmatively and then he’s off on the worry train again.

            The shop is in a secluded part of London; it’s nice but it’s not a heavily traveled thoroughfare, which is probably why Harry suggested it. He finds Harry and a member of his security team chatting in the lounge area of the shop. He’s slightly disguised, but any Harry Styles fan worth her or his salt would notice him immediately; after all, it only takes Louis three seconds to find him in the somewhat crowded shop. Harry looks exhausted but happy. He has circles under his eyes but a gentle smile on his face. He wraps his arms around Louis and they murmur greetings to each other. Louis feels warmth and calm spread through him for the first time since he held the test in his hand and maybe it’s going to be fine.

            The shop is playing Christmas music and it smells like coffee and evergreen trees. Harry orders himself some sugary concoction with an extra espresso shot but Louis can’t judge him because he orders a hot chocolate, mostly because he’s had his allotment of caffeinated tea for the day.

            They sit at a secluded table and Louis is grateful when Harry’s bodyguard orders himself a drink and plops down out of hearing range.

            “You look great,” Harry says to him. Louis chuckles sardonically because he’s wearing a too big sweater and he hasn’t shaved in days.

            “You look tired,” he responds.

            “I should’ve known we’d immediately be on the honesty train with you. All those frank texts should have warned me.”

            This time Louis’s chuckle is of the nervous variety because while Louis can be quite blunt, he hasn’t been that straightforward with Harry.

            “Just thought you should know in case you were considering stopping to take some fan photos. It will be all over social media that Harry Styles is making himself sick.”

            “It’s just jetlag.”

            “Mmmm, what the paparazzi can do with an ‘it’s just..’”

            “You’re awful.”

            “Indeed.”

            Their conversation moves to all the places Harry visited and the before-break antics of Louis’s students. It’s easy for Louis to forget that he has to share with this boy a delicate secret. A secret that might ruin this tentative happiness.

            “I have something important to tell you,” Louis tries to say seriously but it comes out slightly sarcastic, so it isn’t surprising when Harry returns it with his own sarcastic lilt.

            “O really?”

            Maybe, this was a bad way to start it. Maybe he should turn around and hold it off for another day. Instead Louis jumps head first into the pool without knowing how deep it is, “Yeah, I’m pregnant.”

            “Boys can’t get pregnant.”

            “Actually, you and I both know that’s not true,” Louis says defensively.

            “Well, it’s really unlikely and we took every precaution,” Harry says.

            “Shit happens,” Louis hisses, “And it’s yours.”

            “Oh,” Harry says and he looks confused. Louis can’t stand it anymore and instead of continuing the scrutiny, he gets up quickly and walks away. He hears Harry call his name, but he doesn’t turn around. He powerwalks down to the more major street that the coffee shop is off of and flags down a cab. He holds his tears until he makes it into the flat.

            He storms past Zayn who is sitting on the couch, eating ramen, and watching _EastEnders._ He ignores Zayn’s questioning call of his name and falls flat onto his face on his bed. The snotty sobs escape far quicker than he imagined. He shouldn’t care; he doesn’t care, but even in his own mind the argument is weak.

            “Lou, are you okay?” Zayn asks tentatively from the doorway.

            “He said boys can’t get pregnant,” Louis wails.

            “Well, he’s an idiot,” Zayn informs him succinctly. Louis gives him a choked laugh and then he feels Zayn’s nimble fingers run down his back.

            “Why am I so stupid?”

            “You’re not stupid. I’m sure he’ll come around; you probably just shocked him.”

            The thing is Zayn is right, Harry does come around, but not in the way that Zayn means. Two days after the coffee shop incident, Harry shows up at their apartment.

            “How did you know where I lived?”

            “My team is really thorough.”

            That knocks Louis for a loop and it kind of scares the shit out of him. It’s also scaring the shit out of him that Harry won’t look up at him. That he’s standing awkwardly in his trench coat in the middle of the living room, scuffing his feet on the ground, and staring at his shoes like he’s never seen them before.

            “Here,” Harry says, thrusting notes at him. It’s a lot of notes and Louis only takes a perfunctory glance but it has to be more than a thousand pounds.

            “What’s this for?” Louis inquires, holding the money cautiously like it could bite him.

            “To deal with it,” Harry says crisply, and it would seem cold but it just confuses Louis because the voice coming out of Harry’s mouth isn’t Harry’s. Harry has never said a phrase to Louis that could be described as crisp. Drawling, lazy, warm, yes, but not crisp. His accent doesn’t really lend itself to that adjective.  

            “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Louis mutters and he tries desperately to get Harry to make eye contact with him.

            “I’ve discussed it with my team and we don’t even care if it’s mine or not, just use the money. You can’t be that far along. There’s extra in there for your trouble,” Harry replies and again his tone is terse, almost like he’s rehearsed this.

            “I don’t want your fucking money,” Louis says and he can feel the pinpricks in his eyes that are going to make him look like an emotional wreck. He can't let that happen.

            “Then what exactly was the point in telling me?”

            “I thought you’d want to know you were going to be a father,” Louis hollers and this time Harry flinches. It’s the first sign that Harry isn’t committed to this façade.

            “Well, we’d rather you just handle it,” Harry responds, but this time he doesn’t sound nearly as brusque. It’s almost like he can’t believe he’s saying it, but Louis doesn’t care; the fact is he has said it.

            “Get the fuck out,” Louis sneers and when he slams the door behind Harry the whole wall rattles, just like his body when he drops to the floor and cries.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me. *Hides under bed*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis gets a visitor and goes home.

            “Lou, I made breakfast,” Zayn says peaking his head into Louis’s room, and Louis should be concerned because it’s before noon during a break and Zayn is out of bed but he’s too intrigued by the prospect of a warm meal. The smell of bacon, turkey bacon, wafts into his room and Louis rolls to his side and inhales the greasy scent. Bacon, all of a sudden, sounds incredibly delicious and he hopes it’s part of a full fry-up minus the baked beans. It is, of course, because Zayn loves him.

            “Louis, are you crying?” Zayn asks incredulously when he hears Louis patter into the kitchen.

            “Fuck off,” he responds because he can’t say no.

            They eat at the counter with gusto, and the whole time Zayn keeps glancing at him as he makes mewling noises. He wants to flick Zayn off, but he thinks better of it because he wants more of these meals in the future and he definitely can’t make them himself.

            “Movie?” Zayn asks and Louis just groans in acquiescence.

            Zayn turns on _The Avengers_ and opens his arms to Louis. Louis crawls into Zayn’s embrace and lets Zayn keep a gentle hand on the back of his neck and the other on the thigh Louis has thrown over Zayn’s hips. Zayn’s eyes are focused on the screen and he absentmindedly plays with the hairs at the base of Louis’s neck. It’s nice; it’s domestic. Louis wonders if Harry is unwilling to raise this baby with him maybe Zayn will do it.

            “Will you help me raise this baby?” Louis asks, and Zayn barely gives him a glance before responding.

            “Of course, Lou,” Zayn replies like he’s only offering Louis a pen and not a lifetime commitment.

            Louis lunges at Zayn without thinking; he’s just overwhelmed by the offer and his fears. He presses his lips fiercely against Zayn’s. Zayn’s lips are soft and pliant, but he quickly stiffens. He pulls away practically soothingly, his fingers still threaded in the short hairs at the base of Louis’s neck, and looks at Louis.

            “Louis,” Zayn whispers.

            Louis doesn’t want to look at the questioning face or consider how he might have just ruined his closest friendship. He lunges back at Zayn. This time Zayn is ready and Louis’s lips crash into his cheek instead. Zayn pulls away more firmly, making the space between them feel like a gulf. Louis cries then, gross, snotty, wretchedly loud sniveling. Zayn pulls him into his shoulder and kisses his forehead, but that just makes the sobs worse.

            “Nobody wants me,” Louis wails.

            “You’re so overdramatic sometimes, and s’not true,” Zayn snickers.

            “You don’t, Harry doesn’t, nobody.”

            “Two people don’t equate to nobody, and I know you don’t want me.”

            “I’ve changed my mind.”

            Zayn’s body shakes with his laughter and takes Louis’s head on a little ride. He doesn’t look up, and Zayn just draws lazy patterns on his back. He’s gone back to watching the movie like Louis didn’t just make a fool of himself. After he’s stopped blubbering, Zayn smiles down on him, “Everything will work out; you’ll see. I will help you in anyway that I can, but we’re not meant to be together like that. I love you but no.”

            Louis snuffles and nods; he presses his face into Zayn’s collarbone as his cheeks still heat up. They finish watching the movie, and Louis is desperate to find time to himself. He doesn’t immediately jump up, but he does weasel out from under Zayn quicker than usual. He excuses himself by telling Zayn he has to go get Daisy a Christmas present before he has to travel home the next morning for Christmas and more importantly his birthday.

            He spends an extraordinary amount of time at the Toys”R”Us looking through the Legos and My Little Pony toys. He settles on a few gifts that are going to make him the favorite brother, though, he feels bad beating someone over two decades younger than him, mostly. He goes back to his flat and smells the frying meat and cookies.

            “Zaynie, whatcha cooking, good looking?”

            “Fajitas,” Zayn says as he moves a spatula around the frying pan.

            “Smells like cookies.”

            “Made you cookie cake.”

            “You are a knight in shining armor. You are more than I ever deserved. You are a hero among men.”

            “Shut up, would ya?”

            “Where’s the cookie cake?”

            “Dinner first.”

            There’s a rap on the door and Louis peters over to it. He opens it up to find none other than Liam Payne standing in the hallway with a sheepish grin on his trustworthy, puppy-dog face. Louis is cautious because fuck Harry’s whole goddamn crew. As far as Louis is concerned, if you’ve even bumped shoulders with Harry, your name is mud.

            “What do you want?” Louis sneers, crossing his arms snugly over his chest as a deep scowl mars his feisty face. Liam looks slightly taken aback but lifts up the two bags in his hands. One says Topman and the other has the cursive of a chocolatier shop's name that Louis can’t pronounce because it’s a mishmash of English and French.

            “I came by earlier and your roommate flat-out laughed at me. Told me I better come back baring gifts to keep from getting my eyes clawed out. He said you like chocolate, bananas, Topman, and big jumpers. Oh and cookie dough, but he said he had that covered.”

            “You didn’t need to bring me gifts,” Louis says customarily as he reaches for the bags because fuck everything he likes presents and tomorrow’s his birthday so lay off.

            “I wasn’t sure what size to get because Harry said you were kind of small, but then he told me about your condition and well they don’t really make maternity clothes for men…”

            “One, I’m not small, I’m fun sized. And two, they’re called paternity clothes,” Louis interrupts as he rifles through the bag.

            “Right, right, paternity clothes. Topman doesn’t have those and so I got a large, but if it’s too massive you can always take it back,” Liam rambles as Louis finally gets a hold of the knitted cotton. It’s plush against his fingers and Louis can’t wait to pull it over his head. It’s huge, no doubt, but Louis likes it that way. It’s a good snuggle shirt and will hopefully cover his bump in the coming months.

            “It’s wonderful.”

            “Thanks,” Liam says, looking down at his feet, his cheeks tingeing rosy.

            “Let’s see the other bag,” Louis says, losing all decorum in his excitement. Liam hands it over and Louis looks in to see phallic looking chocolate.

            “They’re chocolate covered bananas.”

            “I didn’t know they did this.”

            “They don’t usually but with a little bit of money and a flirty look you can get a lot done in this town.”

            “You cheeky bastard.”

            “Anything for Haz.”

            Louis grunts; why did he have to bring up Harry? It was going so well; he didn’t need to bring up that cretin.

            “Is this some kind of bribery?”

            “No, no.”        

            “Is this to make me get rid of the baby?” Louis questions, throwing the bags back at Liam, “I hate it, take it away.”

            “No, no, Harry sent me to check up on you, not management, Harry sent me.”

            “Mmm,” Louis murmurs sardonically, not at all convinced. His sass mask has fallen back onto his face.

            “He thought you would react this way that’s why he sent me.” Liam replies, and Louis just makes a face that communicates his annoyance and anger with perfected eyebrow raises and lip purses.

            “He likes you a lot, but you scared him with your proclamation. He never expected it and he went straight to management with it. He wanted to announce it before any tabloid found out or it was leaked, but management advised him against it. Told him it was going to ruin his career, but he didn’t care. Then they used their kicker and told him that it would also ruin Niall’s and my careers and that’s what stopped Harry. He’s not a bad guy, Louis, he just loves his friends too much and doesn’t consult us before consulting management. We’d rather Harry be happy than have millions, so here I am. Harry’s wanted to be a dad more than any person I’ve ever met, and I can’t let him give up this opportunity because he thought he was doing right by me.”

            Louis feels his features soften and show sympathy, but he stiffens his muscles and doesn’t let them show more than he’s willing to give away. He shrugs his shoulders and turns away. He sees Zayn leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, a hand towel slung over his shoulder.  He’s examining the interaction carefully, and Louis appeals to Zayn with a quick eyebrow raise.

            “Do you want to stay for dinner?” Zayn asks Liam. Louis can’t see Liam’s face but he can hear the happy rush of air from Liam behind him.

            Dinner is delicious and Louis almost stabs Liam’s hand when he reaches for the last tortilla. Liam laughs and lifts his hands up like he doesn’t want to be shot and Louis smirks at his submissiveness. They might be friends yet. The entire meal passes with easy conversation and Louis wonders how he’s spent so much time with pop stars recently.  After allowing their food to settle over a game of FIFA, which Louis wins that may or may not have been because he’s the birthday boy, Zayn puts candles into the cookie cake and they sing. No, sing is not the right word; Zayn and Liam fucking harmonize over the ditty that’s been sung billions of times and Louis nearly pukes on his cake. Especially when the two other boys look at each other with stars in their eyes.

            “Give him a chance, yeah?” Liam asks Louis, as he puts on his pea coat that makes him look more and more like a model.  

            “I’ll consider it,” Louis says diplomatically as he turns toward the living room.

            Then Liam and Zayn are whispering to each other with small flirty smiles on their faces, and Louis wants very much to vomit. Yet, he doesn’t want to hate the taste of cookie cake, so he closes his eyes and thinks of football.

            The next morning Louis crawls into bed with Zayn and presses obnoxious kisses to his friend’s neck and cheek as he says goodbye. Zayn grumbles at him, nonetheless, he gets up and helps Louis with his stuff because it’s his birthday and he won’t see him until after Christmas.

            “I love you, Zaynie Poo.”

            “Bye, Lou.”

            “That hurts.”

            “I love you, Lou,” Zayn replies, emphasizing every word.

            His sisters swarm him when he arrives and he giggles happily as he ruffles their hair and kisses their cheeks. There are birthday wishes all around and Louis feels bathed in their warmth. Nonetheless, he must not be hiding his stress as well as he would like because his mum keeps sending him worried glances. She lets him celebrate with his family with minimal interference, though. She waits until the girls and Ernest are in bed.

            “Tea?”

            “Yeah, peppermint if you have any?”

            “Who are you? Where is my ‘Yorkshire tea is the only tea’ boy?”

            Louis laughs, “The caffeine keeps me up.”

            “That’s funny because you’ve always had a cuppa before going to bed.”

            “Mum.”

            “Louis, what is going on?”

            “I’m pregnant.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “I’m pregnant, up the duff, expecting.”

            “And what are you going to do?”

            “Keeping it; it’s not ideal but I couldn’t. I just thought about how you didn’t with me and I couldn’t.”

            “Boo bear, that doesn’t mean you have to keep the baby.”

            “But the thing is I kind of want to.”

            “Well, then I guess done is done.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Who’s the father?”

            “Harry Styles.”

            His mum fish mouths and Louis would giggle hysterically if he wasn’t so over it.

            “I… well, you never did settle for less than exactly what you wanted.”

            “Shut up,” Louis whines, and she pulls him into her embrace. He breathes in the scent he’s had memorized since childhood and it won’t be great but he’ll have more support than he’ll know what to do with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to finish this before the end of May. *Crosses fingers*


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Harry make tentative plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your feedback has been wonderful!!! Thank you so, so much!!

                  A trip home means lots of homemade food, bickering, and questions. He takes the girls to see Mark on Boxing Day. He doesn’t tell him and it almost feels like a betrayal, but he hasn’t told anyone but his mom, Zayn, Harry, and his doctor and there’s really no reason to until he’s fully showing. They’ll be angry, but right now, Louis just wants this to himself. People will judge him and want to put him on display once it’s widely known and he’s still reeling from Harry’s rejection that he can’t fathom being rejected by people he truly loves.

                  He loves his siblings, but now that he’s moved out there’s only so much he can take. His mom knows when he needs time alone, though, and takes the girls to a movie, leaving him with Ernest and Doris who are napping. He’s lying on the couch, watching shitty daytime TV and browsing the internet for paternity clothes. The options are incredibly bleak and he hates how feminized the choices that he does find are. He wonders how long he can wear his normal clothes, especially when he sees male bras. Tears slip to the corners of his eyes because he doesn’t want to have to buy those, but his chest already feels firmer and larger, his nipples are sensitive and he’s taken to wearing soft one hundred percent cotton vests under his jumpers so they don’t brush infuriatingly against his chest. He could probably get trousers with elastic bands in them and not make a huge fuss about that. His joggers fit fine, but his chinos are fitting a little more snuggly than he would’ve hoped at the beginning of his fourth month. His stomach is starting to feel squishy and it makes him uncomfortable wearing anything but joggers that have always fallen off his hips. He’s getting teary-eyed and he knows he’s being overdramatic. Maybe he should just take a little nap to clear his thoughts. Besides, nobody can tell that he’s pregnant, but, his pessimism creeps back, it’s only a matter of time before they will be able to guess just how much of an abomination he is.

                  His phone buzzes obnoxiously on the side table just as he’s drifting off. He presses random buttons until it stops. He tires to ignore it, but it’s exploding dramatically. Whoever is texting him really wants the attention and now it intrigues him. He props his hands on his chest and looks down at the screen.  

 

                                    From: Harry from Tesco

                                    _did you talk to liam?_

_i hope you’ve decided to give me a chance_

_liam said you seemed open to giving me a chance_

_did you talk to liam?_

To: Harry from Tesco

                                    _yep_

                                    From: Harry from Tesco

                                    _i know it was shitty but i'm sorry_

 

                                    To: Harry from Tesco

                                    _ok_

 

                                    From: Harry from Tesco

                                    _can we talk?_

To: Harry from Tesco

                                    _i'm visiting the fam but when i get back?_

From: Harry from Tesco

                                    _i'm having a new year’s do, nothing big something small maybe you’d wanna come. bring a mate or something_

                                    To: Harry from Tesco

                                    _maybe i'll have to text some people_

From: Harry from Tesco

                                    _let me know_

                  This warrants more than a brief text message to Zayn. He dials Zayn’s number and it goes straight to voicemail. Louis knows Zayn’s mum probably dragged him to some movie or show she’s been dying to see but nobody will go with her to. Zayn’s ‘son guilt’ always forces him to do less than pleasant things to make his mum happy, but that’s the curse of mommas’ boys.

 

                                    To: Zaynie Boo

                                    _baby daddy drama call me_

He falls asleep this time and is only woken when Ernest wakes up and begins bawling. They’re long drawn out sounds that Louis thinks takes a lot of breath; maybe, he’ll be a singer and knock some poor sap up. He lifts Ernest out of his crib, and he babbles for his mum over and over. Louis mumbles soothingly into Ernest’s floppy hair, leaving little kisses on his forehead. Doris is shifting in her crib, so Louis puts Ernest in the pop up crib in the living room with a few toys and lifts Doris out of her crib. She cuddles into his neck and he knows he’s supposed to “let sleeping babies lie,” but cuddling a sleepy toddler is one of his favorite things, especially since Doris has gotten so independent now and squirms out of his arms whenever he picks her up. She wakes up pretty quickly flailing to slide down his body, and he places her and Ernest on the carpet with some blocks.

                  “All right, Dori, wanna knock over a tower?” She flaps her arms and he builds a tower taller than her. She windmills into it and laughs hysterically when it falls over. Louis fake-pouts and fake-cries about his knocked over tower, which makes Doris chuckle louder and Ernest look concerned.  He grins at Ernest to make him not worry and blows raspberries on Doris’s tummy. His phone breaks out into song and he crawls onto the couch to pick it up. “Zaynie Boo calling,” reads his screen.

                  “Hello,” Louis queries.

                  “Are you okay?”

                  Louis examines himself up and down before responding, “Fine, thanks.”

                  Zayn sighs exasperatedly, “Baby daddy drama?”

                  “Right, Harry wants me to come to his new year’s extravagance.”

                  “That’s not drama, Louis.”

                  “Yes, it is.”

                  “Louis the definition of drama is an exciting, emotional, or unexpected series of events or set of circumstances.”

                  “It is both exciting and unexpected, and it made me a little emotional.”

                  “That’s hormones, Lou.”

                  “I will make you die a slow painful death by cutting off all of your appendages slowly and cauterizing them then stabbing you in the heart.”

                  “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

                  “Which is why you are going to this party with me.”

                  Zayn makes and exasperated, whiny noise and Louis snickers. Zayn responds, “I mean at least he’ll probably have Dom Pérignon.”

                  “Or better."

                  “There’s better?”

                  “You’ll have to find out. Plus, Liam will probably be there.”

                  “Fine, fine,” Zayn huffs, “But for the record I’m doing it for the champagne, not for the fit pop star.”

                  “Keep telling yourself that.”

                  They hang up and he goes back to playing with the twins. They’re easy to please and relatively easy to take care of. It makes him feel better about this whole raising a child thing, but it is mind-boggling all the things they’ve learned in less than two years. He doesn’t know how he’s going to manage to teach a child how to walk much less talk, or go to the bathroom, or add, or read, or Christ. Tears are streaming down his face before he knows it and Doris is patting his cheek reassuringly and Ernest is wailing in sympathy.

                  “O bloody hell,” his mum mumbles as she picks up Ernest and he warbles into her neck, “What’s wrong loves?”

                  “How am I going to raise a baby?”

                  “Don’t be an idiot, darling.”

                  “I don’t know how I learned to read or walk or talk or any of that; how am I supposed to teach another human being that? Sometimes, Zayn has to remind me to take a shower or feed myself and now I have to do that for another person. A person who will be totally reliant on me.”

                  His mum trundles to the couch and both twins crawl into her lap, “It’s not all that difficult, babes, and there will be people to help you. You’re not in this alone. You’ll have tons of people looking out for you two and you’ll make it. You’ve been a brilliant brother and teacher, and you’ll be a brilliant father. It’ll be tough, no lying there, but you’re tougher than most people I know.”

                  “Thanks, mum.”

                  “Don’t mention it, love.”

                  His mom drives him to the train station on the 29th because they’re all starting to grate on each other’s nerves and the couch is starting to hurt his back. He gets home to the warm smells of scouse cooking and hints of mince pies that Zayn must have heated up from home.

                  “You are my favorite person in the world,” Louis whispers into Zayn’s neck as he wraps his arms around him to give him a quick squeeze in greeting.

                  “You only love me for my food.”

                  “Partially, true. It’s definitely not your good looks; I definitely don’t like that you’re better looking than me. Maybe your expansive knowledge gets me, but most likely it’s the food.”

                  “Wanker,” Zayn mumbles.

                  “You still love me,” Louis singsongs as he lugs his bag to his room and all he hears is Zayn’s gruff, sardonic laugh.

                  Louis has two helpings of dinner and refuses to look shame-faced when he mops the dregs up with homemade bread Zayn brought back.

                  “I’m eating for two,” Louis defends.

                  “Lou, you know I don’t care how much you eat. We’ve been over this,” Zayn intones softly, and Louis knows he doesn’t care, knows Zayn would never judge him but he feels self-conscious when he eats because he knows how people talk about his butt and stomach and even sometimes his hips. Now, that his stomach and his body, in general, is getting softer he feels more insecure.             

                  “I know.”

                  “Good. Now about this party.”  

                  They make a plan and it’s not a very good plan because they don’t know much about this shindig, but they do know that if Harry makes another mention of a bribe they’re both kneeing him in the balls and never speaking to a member of his crew again.

                  On the 31st, they arrive fashionably late to Harry’s party; mostly because Louis can’t decide what to wear and Zayn can’t get his hair into his usual perfect quiff. Harry greets them at the door and takes both of their coats. When he comes back from placing them in a room right off the foyer, he offers them a drink. Zayn responds excitedly and Louis just gestures to his nonexistent bump.

                  “Water, tea?” Harry asks him as Zayn moves off to the bar situated in the corner of the wide-open great room where numerous people are chatting.

                  “A cuppa would be great,” Louis responds, and Harry nods excited, “But I can only drink herbal, peppermint if you’ve got it.”

                  “Right, well let’s go look in the kitchen. My staff stocked it while I was gone; I’m not exactly sure what they put in there.”

                  Louis doesn’t know how he feels about Harry having a staff and what that could mean in the long run. Maybe, he won’t have to worry about raising this baby; maybe, Harry Styles is just using him as an incubator. There is no way he would get custody; a poor male able to get pregnant. Fuck no, they’d give the baby to London’s darling Harry Styles. Harry would probably have the judge eating out of the palm of his hand. It makes Louis stiff and kind of melancholy as much as it scares him to raise a child, he doesn’t not want to do it. It also makes him suspicious of Harry’s actions.

                  “I want this baby you know,” Louis says when they’re alone in the expansive kitchen.

                  “I know,” Harry responds, running his long fingers through his hair, “After the initial shock, I kinda did too. It was just, well, my management team, they’re always doing what’s best for my image and all, but sometimes it’s just plain ridiculous, and I went to them without a clear mind, and so of course they could manipulate me, and what I did was wrong and I’m just…” he runs out of breath and trails off, aggressively pulling his hands through his hair. Louis worries that he’s going to rip the beautiful strands out at the follicle, “Well, Louis, it was just… I’m truly sorry for the stunt I pulled. As much as they overshadowed my decision, I should have never done that. My mind wasn’t clear and I said horrible things to you. I hope you’ll give me another chance. If not as yours, at least as a partner in raising our child.”

                  Louis doesn’t say anything; he just narrows his eyes and presses his lips together in contemplation. Harry’s flailing under Louis’s gaze and he nearly burns his hand with the boiling hot water he’s pouring into the mug.

                  “I’m not sure if I can trust you to be quite frank.”

                  “I get that. I’d like to try, though, if it’s all the same to you.”

                  “What exactly does trying look like? Because I don’t want your money, Harry, that’s not my main purpose.”

                  “I’d like to go to your next appointment.”

                  “Won’t that be difficult? What with the paparazzi and all? I don’t necessarily want to be judged by your plethora of rabid fans?”

                  “I would be discreet, and they’re not all bad. Most of the time, the encounters are rather pleasant with my fans. It’s the paps that are real wankers; I have systems to avoid them, though.”

                  “What about your team? Are they going to try to sabotage us at every turn?”

                  “The higher ups might, but the people who do the day to day stuff and really care about me won’t make a huge fuss. Hell, they’ll probably like you. Liam’s already taken quite a liking to you and your roommate. Said you were two awesome lads.”

                  Louis’s mouth turns up into a genuine grin at that and he nods, “All right, Styles, my next appointment is the second, right before I have to go back to work.”

                  “You know you could stop working. You could come live here.”

                  “Woah, woah, woah, pop star, you’re tentatively coming to my next appointment and there is no way we are going to go further than that. Second, I resent that; I am perfectly capable of taking care of this baby and myself. I am not some damsel in distress, you knob.”

                  Harry throws his hands up in defeat and then reaches to hand the mug to Louis. Louis has no idea what possesses him, but he moves to his tiptoes to press a kiss to Harry’s cheek. Harry flushes but looks damn pleased with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, if there are errors! I was trying to get this out there quickly because I leave for DC tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Louis start doing more and more things together.

                  Louis never realized how annoying the words, I’m sorry, could be. He knew that there was a possibility, but her never realized groveling could be so infuriating. He understands Harry is sorry, and he’s decided to give him a tentative chance, but the flowers and chocolates are becoming excessive. His students “Oh and ah,” when he gets ten dozen roses delivered to him in his classroom on Valentine’s Day. It’s something straight out of a chick flick, and he wants little or nothing to do with it. He realizes the sentiment that comes with this romantic notion isn’t about making him feel tawdry but still. It makes him feel like he’s the heroine of the story. The feminization has gone far enough.

                  He has a soft swell now and he’s starting to like it more, even though his anxiety skyrockets when he thinks people can tell he’s pregnant. He’s taken to reading a lot of mpreg-blogs. There are, of course, men who love it, who act like housewives and mums, and who want to fill that gender role. Louis, finally, is all right with that; it’s just he doesn’t date boys so that he can be “the girl”. He dates boys because he wants them both to be “the boy”. He doesn’t want people telling him he’s “the girl,” which is exactly what happened with his uni boyfriend, Matt. It was complete shit and not an experience he wants to relive.

                  So he appreciates the soppiness behind Harry’s gestures but they still make him uncomfortable. Harry has been to every appointment, even if it means rescheduling an interview or taking a long international flight. He’s making the efforts he needs to and almost every part of Louis is screaming at him to just let Harry in, but then his hand falls to his stomach and he remembers the lividness he felt when he shoved that ostentatious bank roll into Louis’s palm. The tears that ran down his face, the anxiety ratcheting up his throat, and the sickening sadness that his child would feel unwanted just the way he did. It’s not easy to forgive that, as much as Modest! put words in his mouth, they didn’t force him to say any of it. Maybe, Harry really thinks that of him, of their child. He doesn’t like the risk that loving Harry might entail, but, on the other hand, he really likes Harry. Sweet, endearing, beautiful, generous Harry… Okay, maybe, he is not as indifferent as he thought.

                  Harry usually meets him at the clinic with a hood pulled up tight over his signature curls through a back door. Only Louis and his doctor ever know and it has espionage overtones. Harry’s incredibly enthralled by the scans and now that it looks like a baby and not just a bean, he coos at the screen. Louis knows that tucked into Harry’s wallet is every single scan he’s ever had and that gets Louis right in the chest.

                  A little bit after the twenty-week mark, Louis goes in for a routine check-up. His doctor, a middle-aged man who specialized in male pregnancies named Dr. Watson, usually comes back from his blood tests with a smile on his face, calling Louis one of his easiest patients.

                  “I’m concerned,” Dr. Watson says, “Your blood pressure is elevated.”

                  “What does that mean?” Harry jumps in, “What do we need to do?”

                  “I don’t think there’s anything drastic you especially need to do, but unfortunately, it is something to be concerned about. The best thing to do is make sure you’re eating healthy and staying active. This could lead to preeclampsia and that comes with even more risks in males.”

                  Dr. Watson gives him some suggestions about how to lower his blood pressure and they’re pretty obvious. Louis nods along and even though, Dr. Watson tells him not to stress, he does anyway. He’s not gestating this baby correctly.

                  “I could have my chef deliver food to you daily,” Harry says, “Hell, he could come to your place and make you food.”

                  “You think I can’t take care of myself,” Louis almost screams.

                  “No, Louis, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I just know sometimes it’s difficult to eat healthy. Ordering takeaway is much easier than eating nutritiously.”

                  “Fuck off, I’m not kidding, Harry. You need to back the fuck up.”

                  “I’m sorry,” Harry pleads, “I overstepped. I’m just worried.”

                  “About the baby,” Louis slightly chokes out.

                  “Louis, look at me,” Harry says, placing his hand on his shoulder. Louis shrugs out from under the contact and Harry’s face saddens, “I’m worried about both of you.”

                  Louis harrumphs and walks quickly out of the front of the office. Harry can’t follow, but Louis’s phone does explode with notifications. He doesn’t even contemplate looking at them and just goes straight home. Zayn’s grading projects at the coffee table and looks up. Louis knows this isn’t good for the baby, but he doesn’t know what to do the stress is hitting him hard.

                  “Shit, Lou, it looks like your having a panic attack,” Zayn says, and that doesn’t make it stop. In fact, Louis can feel his heart rate increase. Zayn brings him over to the couch and sits him down. Zayn places a soothing hand on his back, rubbing up and down, “Take deep breaths, babe.”

                  After Louis has calmed down, pressed his face into Zayn’s side, and stopped the tears, Zayn asks, “What happened?”

                  “I’m killing the baby.”

                  “You’re not.”

                  “Preeclampsia.”

                  “Shit, Lou.”

                  “I can’t even be a good dad now,” Louis snivels.

                  “Completely inaccurate,” Zayn replies.

                  “I’m going to bed.”

                  Louis is lying in bed watching an episode of _Queer as Folk_ when there’s a knock on his door, which means it can’t be Zayn. No matter how many times he’s walked in on Louis changing, wanking, or other unmentionables Zayn still barges into his room without a gentle noise on the door.

                  “Come in,” he says hesitantly. It’s Harry Styles, and he’s gorgeous as usual. A little sheepish but still gorgeous.

                  “Hi.”

                  “Hey.”

                  “I’m sorry that I made you feel like you’re just a baby maker to me. I want you to know that you’re so much more than that. It’s just I want to make your life easier and I figured offering you my chef would make your life easier. I didn’t realize it would make you feel like I didn’t think you could take care of our kid. As much as I don’t really know you, I trust you. It’s weird and stupid, but I trust that you’re the right person to have a child with. I know you’ll fiercely take care of our child. I have no doubt how much you’ll love him or her. I just want to make this process easier on you. I know it can be hard and I don’t want it to be for you. I feel helpless in this whole situation.”

                  “I feel like we need to work on our communication if this is ever going to work.”

                  “I agree.”

                  “Okay, so I’m going to lay it out there first. I’m worried that you’re going to file for full-custody when this baby is born,” Louis rushes and Harry guffaws at this.

                  “I won’t.”

                  “Okay.”

                  “I’m worried that I’m not doing enough. That I’ve started to fill this bumbling father role and I don’t want that to be where I’m at.”

                  “I’m really scared about this diagnosis.”

                  “Me too and I want to help.”

                  “So I will agree to having your chef drop off meals or come over,” Louis concedes and Harry dimple-grins.

                  “I would like to see you more often than just at the appointments.”

                  “Well, I need to exercise more, so why don’t we work out together.”

                  “I have a yoga studio at my new place and some treadmills.”

                  “Sounds perfect.”

                  “I’m glad we settled that. I want us to be parents who work together.”

                  “Me too.”

                  Their new routine starts on Monday. Louis goes over to Harry’s place after work on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. They work out and then his chef makes them a meal. Harry usually invites Louis to stay, but he hasn’t taken him up on his offer yet. Three Mondays in and Louis finally stays. Harry looks like a kid on Christmas when Louis nods at his request to watch a movie. He caters to every one of Louis’s needs. He even lets Louis eat some buttery popcorn and drink a Sprite. In the middle of the film, Louis starts moving around uncomfortably.

                  “What’s wrong,” Harry asks, a frown marring his dimples.

                  “Bambino’s moving about.”

                  “Can I feel?” Harry asks, and he’s as sweet as a kindergartener on the first day of school.

                  “Sure,” Louis says and Harry places his hand on Louis’s stomach where Louis directs him to, but his face drops when he doesn’t feel anything.

                  “I can’t feel anything,” he says like he’s just lost his most prized possession.

                  “Here,” Louis says, grasping Harry’s hand, lifting up the layers hiding his bump, and guiding Harry’s hand to where he can feel it.

                  “Holy sh…moly. Lou, that’s wonderful. I’m in awe of you and our baby.” It’s the first time Harry’s called Louis Lou and it sends a little thrill through Louis. It makes this almost more real. It makes it almost more of a relationship than a parenting partnership.

                  Harry leans down and says, “Hi baby, I love you and I can’t wait to meet you but not too soon. Be good to your daddy, okay? He’s trying really hard for you. We love you baby.”

                  Louis smiles and reaches down his hand to play with Harry’s curls. He pulls Harry up and the first kiss is slow and faltering. Harry sits back on the couch and pulls Louis onto his lap. Louis makes a sound of protest and Harry giggles into his mouth, just grasping his hips tighter. Louis buck into Harry and rucks up both their shirts in an attempt to get their skin closer together. Harry pulls his shirt over his head and then Louis’s. Louis is in his undershirt that pulls tightly across his protruding belly. Harry looks down in wonderment at Louis’s belly and rubs his hands over the clothed skin.

                  “For the love of God, just take it off me,” Louis says. He hasn’t seen Harry giggle this much since he told him he was pregnant, and he does it again. The soft noise something that Louis hopes their child inherits. He pulls Louis’s shirt over his head and looks even more enthralled at the revelation of Louis’s bare torso.

                  “You’re gorgeous.”

                  “Stop, I have stretch marks all over my stomach and my chest is distorted.”

                  “You’re beautiful,” Harry says punctuating the words with kisses.

                  “Am not.”

                  “Honestly, I know how much you love to fight, but you’re not winning this one. Seeing you grow with my baby is the most stunning thing I have ever seen.”

                  “Shut up and kiss me,” Louis blushes.

                  Harry kisses his mouth and then trails his lips to Louis’s collarbone. It’s when he moves to Louis’s chest that he really loses it. Harry tightens his lips around Louis’s nipple as his fingers roll the other one, and Louis arches up into him keening. Before he switches sides, Harry looks up at him and asks, “Do you think I could make you come just from this?”

                  Louis shrugs his shoulders and then challenges, “You could try.”

                  Harry redoubles his efforts and Louis presses closer to him as his teeth drag across his sensitive, distended nipple. After a few more minutes of the torturous laving, Louis can feel the telltale coil in his navel. Any room between them is completely eliminated as Louis crowds closer. He whines out his orgasm and Harry smirks around his nipple.

                  “That was hot,” Harry whispers into his ear.

                  “Yeah, I’ve been so fucking horny lately. Obviously, you’re useful for more than workouts and food, I would’ve exploded if you hadn’t,” Louis replies. Harry looks a little horrified and then hurt. He pulls away and gently moves Louis off of his lap.

                  “You can go.”

                  “Harry?”

                  “I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

                  Louis leaves because he doesn’t want to fight and he’s a little blissed out. When he goes over on Wednesday, the trainer who sometimes works with them answers. He tells Louis Harry isn’t home and it’s all business from there. They work out and Louis can’t do nearly as much as usual because he wonders the whole time where Harry is. Harry doesn’t return for dinner either and instead of eating alone at the big table in Harry’s dining room, he takes it back to his flat. Zayn raises his eyebrows when he pops the dish in the microwave and eats it aggressively on the couch.

                  After he’s nearly broken the dish and the remote control, Zayn sighs, “What’s gotten into you?”

                  “Harry’s mad at me.”

                  “Did you do something wrong?”

                  “Not really.”

                  “Apologize.”

                  “But I hate apologizing.”

                  “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to finish this before the end of May, but I feel writer's block coming on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis apologizes, seriously, Louis apologizes.

                  It’s not that he’s avoiding Harry as much as Harry is avoiding him. Yes, yes, all right, it is that he’s avoiding Harry as much as Harry is avoiding him. He knows he should apologize; he knows he was so flippant because he wanted Harry to know he doesn’t need him, which, of course, he doesn’t. Yet it would be nice to have him around.

                  Harry avoids him for over a week and Louis is getting downright insulted. He snoops around Harry’s and doesn’t find much; so then he plies Harry’s chef, Arnold, and cleaning lady, Maria, with compliments and they eventually sing like canaries. He gleans that Harry will be home rather early on Friday as opposed to his usual party jaunts. Arnold eyes him suspiciously, but Maria has pity on him and his baby bump and tells him that she’ll be finishing her shift right around the time Harry’s supposed to come home. He smiles sweetly at her and rubs his distended belly like it’s a magic eight ball.

                  That Friday, Maria lets him in and he sits propped on the couch, waiting for Harry in the least stalker way that he can for somebody who has literally looked through most of the man’s possessions and bribed his staff to let him in. He’s worn a tighter sweater from Topman that he always thought he looked fit in. He still has to roll the sleeves more times than he would care to admit, but it falls gracefully over the swell of his abdomen. He’s close to showing now in most outfits; for the most part, it just looked like he’s gotten pudgy around the middle, but the swell is day-by-day looking more like it’s holding a baby and not a few extra pints.

                  He doesn’t know why he expected surprising Harry would work out well for him, take it as a deliriously optimistic thought. He hears the key turn and the lock snick, but then noises rapidly follow it. Harry’s high tinkling giggle that Louis’s only heard a few times because he only does it when he’s ecstatic and truly comfortable, and Louis will be honest with himself and admit there’s not much to make Harry feel contented around him. At first he wishes and hopes that Harry’s just on the phone, but then he hears a baritone voice that doesn’t have the mellow slowness of Harry’s. It’s quick, generic, but appealing, and then he recognizes it. It’s the dude from the breakfast show that he sometimes plays in his room before classes start. He’s panicking with the air caught in his throat, his inability to make a coherent thought about getting out of this situation, and his incapability to close his mouth. He’s thankful for small blessings when he realizes right before they walk into the living room that he needs to cover his stomach; he grabs a pillow and rests it in his lap.

                  Harry stops abruptly when he sees him sitting on his plush couch and squawks when Nick plows into him. Nick hooks his chin over Harry’s shoulder and it’s such an intentional move that he has to slouch because he’s taller than Harry. He has his hands on Harry’s hip and he makes an inquisitorial noise in his throat. Louis feels vulnerable and dumb. He presses his hands into the pillow and a disturbed whine emits from between his parted lips that makes Harry’s forehead crinkle and Nick’s eyebrows inch up and eyes dance excitedly. He wants to leave desperately and forgets about how the pillow is hiding the obvious marker of his pregnancy. He drops the pillow and takes the route that will lead him directly out the door, away from this mess. He forgets about what the pillow was hiding until Nick gasps out, “Harold, I know you like to collect rare things. But what is a pregnant man doing on your couch?”

                  He doesn’t want to stay for the rest because Harry’s a terrible liar. He’ll fumble and Louis’ll be there for the humiliation. He’s sure it’ll be mortifying; for God’s sakes, telling his own mother was mortifying much less Harry’s boyfriend, Harry’s boyfriend who’s part of the press and could epically ruin Louis’s life if he really wanted to.

                  Louis hates his short legs; they’re not getting him to the door nearly as quick as he was hoping for. Plus, he’s still getting used to the way his body moves now and it makes his body cumbersome for a quick escape. He can hear Harry talking and he almost sounds like a normal human, which means he must be speaking in rushed tones. It’s only Harry who meets him at the door as he pulls on his Vans. He hates that his feet have swollen just enough that it makes it a hardship just to slide his shoes on.

                  “What are you doing here?” Harry demands, but he’s not being mean, just confused. Yet, Louis cries anyways. He tries to keep them in his eyes by blinking rapidly.

                  “I’m sorry, god, I’m so stupid, and I’m so sorry,” Louis rambles, “Fuck, I’m such a twit.”

                  “What are you talking about? You had to have known that I’d forgive you.”

                  “No, it’s just I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend.”

                  “What are you blabbering about?”

                  “Nick, he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

                  “We need to communicate better. This is getting completely out of hand. Nick is absolutely not my bloody boyfriend and we’ll have to talk later about the fact that you think I’m a cheater.”

                  “I just,” Louis trails off. Being at a lost for words is new for him.

                  “Let’s go,” Harry says, dragging him into the kitchen. Nick standing in front of Harry’s fridge with his arm extended into it, pulling random containers out and looking inside, sometimes he’ll lift the lid and give it an inquisitive sniff.

                  “What’s this, mate?” Nick raises holding up a dish.

                  “Four-cheese risotto,” Harry says off-handedly, concentrating instead on Louis’s face.

                  “Any good?” Nick asks sniffing the dish again and meandering to the drawers for a fork and then to the microwave.

                  “Everything Arnold makes is ace, you know that, you steal meals enough,” Harry says distractedly. Louis brings his hand up to his mouth to rip a cuticle off his ring finger and before he can manage Harry is pressing his hand down and rubbing a pattern into Louis’s wrist.

                  “So Harold, I have waited long enough for you to be a proper host and you’re severely lacking. Therefore, I will ask who is this dishy bloke,” Nick asks and Louis snorts because he wouldn’t be calling himself dishy anytime soon.

                  “Nick, Louis. Louis, Nick,” Harry mumbles and Nick leans over the island with a hand proffered.

                  “Now, I don’t know if either of you have noticed but he’s for sure pregnant, and, pop star, that’s a little scandalous.”

                  “Nick, you can’t.”

                  “Christ, how little you think of me.”

                  “You’re the press, Nick, whether you like it or not.”

                  “Pop star, when have I ever given away your secrets. It’s not like I told the whole world about the time you kissed me.”

                  “Nick, this is really a big deal, you get that, right? Like this isn’t a joke.”

                  “Contrary to popular belief I am an adult, pop star, and can understand adult problems. Remember, I am nearly a decade older than you. Though, when you do finally decide to discuss this with the public can I be the first interview? Ratings would be astronomical,” Nick concludes.

                  “Yeah, yeah,” Harry agrees; his fingers still playing with Louis’s wrist.

                  “So you have a little family now just like you always wanted.”

                  “Not exactly,” Harry says, dropping Louis’s wrist and Louis doesn’t realize how much he was enjoying the little caresses until they’re gone.

                  “O so that’s not why you two have been making heart-eyes at each other since we walked in?”

                  “What?” Louis sputters.

                  “Stop,” Nick huffs, “I interview a lot of people and you have to get very good at reading body language, and if you two don’t massively fancy each other than I need to find a new job.”

                  “Find a new job,” Harry says, just as Louis mumbles, “You seem to have it spot on.”

                  Harry’s neck whips to Louis and Louis looks down at his hands. Nick smiles triumphantly and responds, “Well my work here is done. I’ll just be leaving you two alone. Harry, hope you don’t mind if I take this dish with me. I’ll make sure to bring it back cleaned and washed.”

                  “Good-bye, Nicholas.”

                  “Good-bye, Harold, and good-bye to you too lover boy.”

                  “Louis.”

                  “Yes, yes, lover boy.”

                  Harry watches Nick leave and then whips to Louis. Louis doesn’t want to have the awkward conversation where they have to bring up the fact that he was a total callous wanker who might have intentionally said things to hurt Harry. No, that conversation is completely unnecessary when it all comes down to it. He reaches up and pulls Harry’s face down to his and he kisses him. Harry makes a desperate noise and wraps his hands tightly around Louis’s hips. Louis makes a noise of protest as Harry tries to lift him onto the counter, but it’s so arousing that he just pushes his face into Harry’s neck. Harry’s hands trail a sizzling path over his body and Louis wonders if he’ll come just as quickly as last time. Harry pushes the neck of his jumper over so that he can suck a bruise into the skin covering Louis’s clavicle. Louis hums in response, rucking up Harry’s shirt so he can run his fingers over the tight muscles that jump in anticipation.

                  “God, you’re gorgeous,” Harry whispers into Louis’s ear after he emits a rather helpless moan.

                  “No, you’re gorgeous.”

                  “We both can be,” Harry concedes.

                  “I want to have sex with you so bad.”

                  “Just to have sex.”

                  “Hazza,” Louis whines and Harry smiles into his neck, “No, I want it to be you because you’re the father of my child and you’re so sweet and kind and generous and please don’t make me continue making a fool of myself.”

                  “Just one more thing.”

                  “You don’t make me feel like a freak,” Louis whispers into the bountiful curls and the secret almost gets stuck there, but Harry catches it and lifts Louis off the counter.

                  “Follow me,” he says, interlacing their fingers.

                  They get to the bedroom and Louis looks at the bed speculatively, “I can’t lay on my back very well, hurts too much. Plus, doctor says it’s important to lay on my side because of the preeclampsia.”

                  Harry nods and continues kissing Louis as they stand in the middle of the room. Louis wonders if Harry even heard him as Harry pulls their clothes off one garment at a time. Each time he takes one piece of clothing off, he kisses Louis in this reverent manner Louis’s never quite experienced before. They’re both naked before Louis realizes and he wants to cover himself up, but each time he tries, Harry knocks his hand away. Louis can tell Harry’s a little gob-smacked by his bump and Harry runs his fingers over it. He kneels and kisses Louis’s bellybutton as his hands trail all over the bump. Louis wants to be weirded out by this, but it’s too endearing and he slides his fingers into the curls, massaging Harry’s scalp. Harry looks up at Louis like he’s hung the moon and it’s almost too much pressure. Harry guides Louis to the bed and Louis lays on his back because he’s pretty sure Harry didn’t hear him and he’ll look like and idiot on his side.

                  “Don’t be an idiot,” Harry admonishes as he moves to the other side of the bed and lays on his side facing Louis, “You just said the doctor advised against that.”

                  “I thought you hadn’t heard.”

                  Harry snorts but smiles at him and pulls Louis so he’s on his side. They kiss and Louis likes that their control is almost equal. Harry pulls Louis closer and intertwines their legs. Their hard-ons graze against each other and they both moan into the kiss. After a few minutes of almost uncomfortable dry rubbing, Harry rolls away to reach into his nightstand. He slicks them both up so they can rut against each other. He reaches back to prep Louis but Louis shakes his head.

                  “Can we get off this way?”

                  “Fuck,” Harry mumbles into his neck and bucks his hips roughly into Louis. Louis wraps his leg around Harry’s hip tight until their dicks are trapped tightly next to each other and his baby bump is pressed into Harry’s hard abs. Harry grabs Louis’s ass and ruts upwards. Their cocks are trapped so tightly together that any movement causes stuttering noises between them as their hands grapple to pull the other one tighter. Louis comes first with a nip at Harry’s neck that sends him over the edge. Their abdomens are sticky and almost uncomfortably warm, but they don’t pull away from each other. Louis gets hard again faster than he’s ready for making him dizzy and Harry giggles.

                  “It’s the hormones,” Louis defends.

                  “It’s a good thing,” Harry responds, “I just never imagined that someone older than me could be quicker to the draw.”

                  “Hey,” Louis whines, but he doesn’t stay angry with Harry for long when Harry crawls down his body and licks at the tip. Louis almost comes first-time-blow-job fast, but he caresses Harry’s cheek to get him to slow down and help him save face. Harry swallows prettily when he comes the second time. Louis likes the taste of himself on Harry’s lips when they kiss.

                  Harry forces him to take a shower and Louis whines obnoxiously but he’s glad for it when Harry runs his hands all over Louis’s body with a washcloth. Harry throws him a pair of trackies and a v-neck vest and they’re too long and big. The trackies might kill him if he isn’t careful with the way they want to cover his feet and the vest accentuates his enlarging chest, but the way Harry looks at him makes that all trivial. Harry drags him to the bed and they lay looking at each other again.

                  “I could get used to this,” Louis says veining frivolity but his heart rate accelerates when Harry looks into his eyes questioningly.  He sees hope there.

                  “Me too,” Harry responds softly. They grin at each other and Louis pushes stray curls out of Harry’s face before he kisses him gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be an epilogue. There's so much more I've been thinking about writing but I kind of want to finish it today so... there'll be a short little epilogue and then maybe some drabbles later.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their baby arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it I finished it in the month of May, yay!

                  Being pregnant is enough of a problem at the end of term especially since it’s quite obvious now that he isn’t just enjoying food and booze, but being Harry Styles’s secret boyfriend is a lot more pressure. He’s been stalked by the paparazzi, mobbed by fan girls, and had to watch the father of his child walk down the red carpet with a beautiful, female model to cover them up because he’s, they’re, not good for Harry’s image. Harry reschedules a lot of events for the last two months of Louis’s pregnancy, and in turn, Louis spends a lot more time at Harry’s place, well when there aren’t cameras covering every door. At the end of term, he no longer has to worry about sneaking past the paparazzo because he starts nesting at Harry’s place, but he’s getting restless as the weeks get closer and closer to forty.

                  At thirty-seven weeks, he’s doing dishes, which Harry and Maria keep telling him to leave alone because the doctor told him that he should be on partial bed rest, which Harry took to mean no moving at all. But he just feels so goddamn useless and restless, so he does the dishes. Plus, he hates leaving their dinner dishes until Maria comes in the morning, and he’ll wait until Harry has gotten comfortable on the couch before making a move to do them. Because goddamn he wants to do them, not guilt Harry into it.

                  “Louis William Tomlinson,” Harry yells from the living room when he hears glasses clinking, which makes Louis’s head snap up.

                  “Have you been talking to my mother?” Louis yells back.

                  “Yes, because I’m concerned with everything you’re doing when you’re supposed to be on bed rest.”

                  “Partial bed rest.”

                  “Louis,” Harry rebukes, “It’s for the baby I want you to take every precaution.”

                  “It’s not like I’m trying to hurt our baby.”

                  “I know, babe, I just wish you would hold off.”

                  “I only have a few more things to put into the dishwasher and then we can watch a movie, yeah?”

                  “Okay,” Harry concedes, holding Louis’s neck as he kisses Louis’s forehead.

                  Louis is lifting the stockpot out of the sink when he gets a sharp pain through his lower abdomen. It shocks the breath out of him and he drops the stockpot on the floor.

                  “Louis?” Harry yells and he can hear Harry’s feet as they slap against the hardwood floor and then the tile of the kitchen. “Shit, Louis, what’s wrong?”

                  “I just got a sharp pain through my stomach.”

                  “I’m calling the doctor, but first, let’s get you to the couch,” Harry says, wrapping his arm around Louis’s waist. As they move to the couch, Louis feels tears prick the back of his eyes.

                  “Fuck, Haz, I’m so fucking sorry, you don’t even know. I’m an idiot and I should’ve listened to you. I’ll never forgive myself if…” He begins sniffling and that doesn’t make his situation better.

                  “Louis, it’s going to be all right, we’ve got this,” Harry placates as he helps Louis sit down on the couch. He dials their doctor’s number and he answers almost immediately. Harry reports the problem and then relays Louis’s answers to the doctor’s questions. When Harry says it might be easier if he just did the talking, Louis shakes his head because he hasn’t been able to control his quivering voice. They decide to go in just as a precaution. Harry has to call his team though and ten minutes after the first pain another one comes. Louis starts sobbing and Harry rubs circles into his back and reminds him to breathe. He tells Louis there’s nothing to apologize for, but Louis can’t help thinking he’s ruined everything.

                  They get to the hospital rather quickly all things considered. Harry’s team runs around like chickens with their heads cut off as they get people to sign confidentiality agreements and find a way for Harry to be as inconspicuous as possible. Louis has to hand it to Harry that he’s rather serene given that nobody around him can seem to keep it together. They meet with Louis’s doctor in a private room in a secluded area of the hospital. Louis explains his symptoms again and his cheeks are tear stained, and his doctor just gives him a small reassuring smile.

                  “I don’t think you have anything to worry about; I think you’ve just gone into labor.”

                  “But isn’t it too early?” Harry asks.

                  “Not really, your planned C-section is only ten days away; a baby can definitely survive outside of the womb at this time. Let’s have an exam anyways just to be sure.”

                  He examines Louis and Louis just prays to any deity that will listen that it’s just contractions that he didn’t fuck up this baby like he does everything else.

                  “Looks like you’re dilating, which means we should probably prep you for the cesarean now.”

                  Harry squeezes Louis’s hand reassuringly when he notices that he’s stopped breathing. They take Louis to an operating suite to prepare him for the C-section. They give him anesthesia, then they put up a screen, and Louis can’t feel anything else nor does he really want to know what’s going on. Harry shows up after nearly twenty minutes in scrubs and his hair in a bouffant cap. He makes consoling noises and Louis wants to whap Harry across the face but it’s actually kind of helping so he lets the incoherency continue. 

                  “I’m cold, I think,” Louis says to Harry, and Harry just squeezes his hand tighter.

                  “I’m scared, I think,” Harry responds.

                  “Don’t mock me.”

                  “’M not. They’re starting.”

                  Louis doesn’t feel the incision, but he does feel the tugging they’re doing. It doesn’t hurt; it’s just a lot of pressure. He can feel them jostling his insides and it makes him a little queasy. Harry’s squeezing his hand harder than necessary and every time Harry looks around the barrier, he comes back and kisses Louis’s forehead as he whispers mollifying noises and endearments.

                  “It’s a baby girl,” the doctor announces as he lifts her up for Harry and Louis to see; he looks at Harry and asks, “Do you want to cut the cord?”

                  “Why isn’t she crying?” Louis asks, his voice more hoarse than he expected and tinged with desperation as Harry moves to the other side of the curtain.

                  “C-sections babies don’t,” a nurse tells him as she walks past him with more instruments, “They need their lungs sucked out.”

                  That doesn’t calm him like he hoped it would and he’s trying desperately to swivel himself so he can see what they’re doing to her.

                  “You did such a good job, babe,” Harry says kissing his forehead but nearly missing as Louis squirms again.

                  “Shut up and go see what they’re doing to her,” Louis demands, “You’re on baby duty until I can move. Don’t you worry about me, I’ve got this. I need you to make sure she’s okay.”

                  His words get increasingly desperate and Harry’s initial hurt at being told to shut up fades when he realizes that Louis’s just scared. He does what he’s told and stands where he can see both of them. After a few moments, she’s screaming loudly and Louis lets out a sigh. She’s given the APGAR test and Harry observes quietly in anticipation. After a few more minutes, they wrap her up in a blanket and hand her to Harry who takes her immediately to Louis. He places her lovingly on Louis’s chest and Louis holds her against himself, scanning her to make sure everything’s in place.

                  “She’s perfect,” Louis sighs.

                  “Wouldn’t have expected anything less from you,” Harry jokes.

                  “I need those meds now,” Louis responds, and Harry laughs but takes her back.

                  “I’ll see what I can do.”

                  The next few days are actual hell for Louis. His sadistic nurse forces him to move around and get up off his bed after twenty-four hours to go to the bathroom. After forty-eight, she makes him take a walk up and down the hallway. He’s grateful though that she’s infinitely patient with him while he learns to breastfeed. Harry’s not much help with getting the nurse to lay off. He just reminds Louis that she knows what she’s doing and then goes back to holding their daughter on his chest while he sings. They look so cute together that Louis forgives him just a little. After three days, they’re all ready to go home.

                  “We need a name before we leave,” Harry tells him.

                  “I was thinking I want the name to mean something,” Louis says.

                  “I agree.”

                  “And we met at Tesco…”

                  “We are not naming our daughter Tesco.”

                  “No,” Louis replies exasperatedly, “But I was thinking Tessa.”

                  “I like that.”

                  “And then her middle name for our mums: Tessa Joanne Styles.”

                  “It’s perfect,” Harry says as he kisses Louis on the forehead.

                  Her name very well may be perfect, but life with her isn’t perfect. Louis feels like he constantly fucks up with her even though he’s spent loads of time with babies in the past, and that Harry is infinitely better at the parenting thing than he is, which is just down right unfair since he had to carry her around for thirty-seven weeks. She cries nearly every time he holds her unless he’s feeding her and even then everything runs smoother if he sits between Harry’s legs. Harry keeps telling him it’s because she can sense his nervous energy, but Louis reminds him she’s a baby not a fucking dog. He finds himself in a familiar situation when he can’t get her to stop crying the first time Harry leaves them alone in five weeks. Harry just has an interview with Nick to quell any rumors that might be stirring with his absence from any kind of scene in the last few weeks, but it’s too long for Louis. He’s sitting on the floor of her nursery, crying as she wails in his lap. He bounces her up and down as he tries to keep his sobbing to a minimum; the screaming she’s doing is enough for both of them. After the door opens and closes, he can hear Harry running up the stairs two at a time when he hears them.

                  “Bloody hell, what happened?”

                  “She hates me,” Louis wails, offering her to Harry. Harry shakes his head and crosses his arms tightly across his chest. Louis whimpers and cries harder.

                  “Take her, she loves you,” Louis cajoles.

                  “O, babe, she loves you too.”

                  “No, I’m her mortal enemy. The only time she stops crying when I hold her is when she’s got my tit in her mouth. She’s just using me for my milk.”

                  “Stand up,” Harry orders and Louis hiccups but follows the direction.

                  “Now walk around,” Harry directs, “Calm down, you can do this. Now rock a little as you walk, use your upper body to twist a little. She also likes a little bounce, pretend like you’re a boat,” Harry offers and Louis glares at him, “Now sing ‘Little Things’ and don’t pretend that you don’t know all the words.”

                  “Your hand fits in mine like it’s made just for me,” Louis sings as he plays with her hand and she reflexively wraps her tiny fingers around his index finger. It takes till his favorite part of the song, the snippet about tea, for her to calm to just whimpers. By the end, she’s just staring with red-rimmed wide-eyes up at him as her body shakes with hiccups. He smiles with bleary eyes back at her. Harry drops one hand onto the back of Louis’s neck and then caresses her head ever so gently with the other. He kisses Louis’s cheek and then his mouth. He moves to her next, pressing a soft kiss into Tessa’s tiny cheek. When he’s done peppering them with kisses, he presses his forehead to Louis’s.

                  “You’ve got this,” Harry reminds him, enunciating each word.

                  “We’ve got this,” Louis counters. Harry laughs and pulls Louis into his body, so that Tessa is sandwiched between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have commented, kudos-ed, and bookmarked this piece; it means the world to me. I may add drabbles to this because there's so many more ideas that I have. Let me know what you think about the ending and the entirety of the story! Also let me know what would you like to read about in this series. Or drop me an unrelated drabble prompt on my tumblr at areyoutherelarry.tumblr.com.

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all feedback is appreciated!


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